During his twenty-three years as a police officer, Captain Lucius David had seen the worst of people. He had been in Afghanistan three times before that, so he was ready for violence. But nothing could have prepared him for the bureaucratic nightmare of a divorce, especially when his ex-wife married a man who smiled too much and drank too little. In Lucius’s experience, it was always a terrible omen.
He was in his office in the precinct, and the afternoon sun shone through the blinds like jail bars across his desk. Lucius was forty-six years old and carried his authority with the ease of a man who had earned every stripe through hard work and blood. His uniform was spotless, and he stood straight like a soldier. But his gray eyes, like gunmetal, conveyed a warmth that only three others could see: his son Blake, his partner of fifteen years, and his late mother.
“Captain David?” Officer Sandy Ali knocked on the door that was already open. “The mayor’s office called again about the program to reach out to the community.”
“Tell them I’ll have the proposal by Friday,” Lucius said without looking up from the reports. There was a lot of gang activity going on in the East District, and two of his best detectives were on paternity leave. “Is there anything else?” “
“Your ex-wife called.” Talked about Blake’s football game on Saturday. She sounded… stressed.
Lucius’s jaw tightened without anyone noticing. These days, Carmela always sounded tense. Since she married Guillermo Edwards two years ago, her life has been like a play about suburban happiness. Lucius thought the man was too successful as a contractor. There has to be some short cuts taken somewhere for someone to build that quickly and profitably.
He waved Ali aside and said, “I’ll take care of it.” Then he picked up his phone. Carmela has called three times in the last hour and missed all of them. His phone rang before he could call back. Blake’s phone number.
“Hey, champ.” Are you okay? Lucius felt his shoulders relax as he heard his son’s voice, but only for a second.
“Hey, Dad? Yes, I’m OK. Can we just talk? Not on the phone.
Blake was sixteen and in his second year of high school. He had his father’s stature and his mother’s dark, expressive eyes. Lucius thought he was acting aloof because of teenage rebellion, first relationships, and the usual craziness of being a teenager. But something in his son’s voice brought back the instinct that had kept Lucius alive in Helmand Province.
“I can pick you up in twenty.” Normal place.
“No,” Blake’s voice got quieter. “Could you meet me at Uncle Byron’s garage instead? I don’t want to be home right now.
Byron’s uncle. Byron David, Lucius’s younger brother, was the only mechanic in town who could bring a ’67 Mustang back to life from a pile of rust and remorse. Blake had spent many days there since the divorce, learning how to fix carburetors and change timing belts.
Lucius said, “I’m on my way.” He grabbed his jacket and left, only stopping to warn Lieutenant Arnaldo Caldwell, his second-in-command, that he would be gone for an hour. Caldwell, a man with a barrel chest who had been on the job for twenty years, just nodded. He knew not to raise questions when the Captain had that expression on his face.
The garage was in an industrial region that gentrification hadn’t gotten to yet. Fifteen years ago, Byron David bought it for nothing and transformed it into a safe place for historic automobiles and lost causes. When Lucius got there, he saw his kid sitting on the hood of a Chevelle with his shoulders hunched and staring at his phone.
“Blake.”
Lucius saw the purple shade growing under his son’s left eye, which was half-hidden by his meticulously styled hair.
Blake slid off the hood and raised his fists in defense. “Don’t freak out.” “It’s not as bad as it seems.”
Before his anger, Lucius’s training kicked in. He walked up cautiously and gently turned Blake’s face toward the light. The bruising was still fresh, maybe three or four hours old. There were markings from fingers on his son’s upper arm that were hard to see through his sleeve.
“Who?” “Lucius kept his voice steady, and a quiet, menacing calm came over him. “Blake, who did this to you, Dad? “
His son’s eyes filled with tears he was too proud to let fall. “Guillermo.” We had a fight about the game on Saturday. I talked back, and he… grabbed me and pushed me against the wall. He said I was rude, that Mom lets me get away with murder, and that someone needed to teach me how to be disciplined. Blake’s voice broke. “I pushed him back once, and he… he lost it.”
Lucius felt like his blood temperature had dropped to almost absolute zero. The old people termed this “combat calm,” that clear moment before all hell broke free.
“Where is your mother? “
“She was with her sister.” She doesn’t know yet. Guillermo threatened that if I mentioned anything, he would make sure I never saw you again. That he has pals in family court and can show that you’re not a good parent because you’re never there.
Lucius hugged his son and felt him shake against his chest. “Did you hit him back?” “
“No.” I just… I went. “Grabbed my bike and came here.” Blake drew away and wiped his eyes. “Sorry, Dad. I shouldn’t have made him mad. I know Mom is happy with him, and I don’t want to ruin that.
“Stop,” Lucius said, holding Blake’s shoulders so that his son had to look him in the eye. “You didn’t do anything wrong. A man who was an adult touched you. That is an attack. That is not okay.
“But Mom…”
“I’ll take care of your mom. Please do precisely what I say right now. We’re taking you to the hospital to get examined out. Then we write down everything.
Blake nodded, and Lucius could see the trust in his son’s eyes. He knew that Dad would solve this and make everything right. It was a burden Lucius had been carrying since Blake was born, and it would be a burden he would carry until he died.
He didn’t tell his kid that Guillermo Edwards had just made the worst mistake of his life. Lucius David’s world had rules that he followed and codes that he lived by. But there was one rule that was more important than all the others: Don’t touch his son.
Carmela Edwards, who used to be Carmela David, looked at herself in the mirror in her sister’s bathroom and tried to persuade herself that the tightness in her chest was just nerves over Blake’s football game coming up. She had been on edge all day, ever since Blake and Guillermo got into a fight at breakfast.
“Are you okay in there?” “Elena Smith, her sister, called through the door.
“Okay, just give me a minute.” She poured cold water on her cheeks. Carmela had aged beautifully at forty-three, thanks to yoga, costly skin care, and the good life Guillermo gave her. She married him because he was everything Lucius wasn’t: there for her, paying attention to her, and financially stable without the constant danger of death. No more 3:00 a.m. calls about shootings involving police officers, no more waiting up and wondering if today was the day she would become a widow. But recently, Guillermo had changed: he was more irritable, drank more, and worked longer hours. His relationship with Blake had gone from cool to nasty.
Her phone rang. Lucius. She almost didn’t answer, but her shame and habit compelled her thumb swipe right.
“Where are you, Carmela?” “
“Why at Elena’s? What’s the matter? She heard it right away, the tone Lucius used when he was trying not to lose his temper.
“When was the last time you saw Blake?” “
Her heart ceased beating. “This morning, at 7:30. Why, Lucius? What happened? “
“Your husband happened.” The way he said husband, like it tasted bad, made her stomach drop.
“What do you mean?” “
“Guillermo touched our son. Carmela, Blake has bruises. On his arms and face. Do you want to tell me how long this has been going on? “
The bathroom was slanted. “No, that’s not it.” Guillermo wouldn’t. “Blake must have gotten into a fight at school.”
“Blake told me everything.” And before you say our son is lying, I’m looking at the proof right now. We are at County Memorial. “You should get here.” He hung up.
Carmela looked at the phone, and her pristine world broke like a windshield when a stone hit it. Yes, Guillermo was angry with Blake. The boy might be hard to deal with, sullen, and rude. But hurting someone? That wasn’t the man she married. He was the one who brought her coffee in bed every Sunday, fixed up their kitchen with his own hands, and vowed to offer her the stability Lucius never could.
“Elena!” “She ran out of the bathroom. “I have to go.” It’s Blake.
The drive to County Memorial took fifteen minutes, but it felt like hours. She called Guillermo three times, but all she got was voicemail. When she eventually got to the emergency department, she saw Lucius in the waiting area, still in uniform. He had that controlled intensity that had once made her feel protected but now made her feel insignificant.
“Where is he?” “
“Taking X-rays.” The doctor wants to make sure that the orbital bone isn’t broken. Lucius stood up, and she was reminded of how big and scary he was: six feet two inches tall, two hundred pounds of muscle, and barely controlled rage. “You want to tell me how you didn’t see that your husband was hurting our son?” “
“Don’t,” Carmela’s voice shook. “Don’t you dare make it sound like I knew.” He should have told me if Blake was experiencing troubles.
“He gave it a shot. Do you recall three weeks ago? When he requested to spend the week with me and only the weekend with you? You told him he was being overdramatic and that he needed to change.
That was what she said. The memory made her sick.
“Mrs. Edwards? ” A nurse came. “Your son is ready to see you.”
Carmela ran passed Lucius and the look of condemnation in his eyes. She located Blake in a curtained-off area for exams. In the fluorescent light, the bruise looked worse. It was a dark purple that stretched from his cheekbone to his eye socket. But it was the way his shoulders drooped in defeat that shattered her heart.
“Sweetheart…”
“Mom,” Blake said in a monotone voice. “Dad told you?” “
“He told me his side of the story.” She grabbed for his hand, but he pulled away. “I want to hear yours.”
“I talked to Guillermo about the game on Saturday.” Said I wanted Dad to be there, not him. He grabbed my arm, pushed me against the wall, and called me an ungrateful punk. I shoved him away. He hit me, Blake finally looked at her. “That’s how I see it. Are you going to believe me, or are you going to make excuses for him like you always do? “
“Always? What are you talking about, Blake? “
“The pushing, the grasping, and the names he calls me when you’re not there. He goes through my phone and backpack and supervises everything I do. For months, I’ve been trying to tell you that something is wrong, but you don’t want to hear it. You don’t care what he does to me because you’re so pleased to have your ideal husband in your beautiful house.
Every word was a knife. Carmela could feel tears running down her face. “Blake, I promise I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, well, now you know.”
The drapes flew open. A doctor and Lucius came in first, and then a woman in a blazer with a CPS badge on her waist came in. The social worker’s presence made things seem so real. “Mrs. Hi Edwards, I’m Whitney Shaw with Child Protective Services. I have some questions for you concerning your home.
For the following hour, she was questioned, given medical reports, and slowly, painfully, realized that she had failed her son. She didn’t see what was going on in her own home and didn’t keep him safe from a man she had introduced into their lives. After everything was over, Blake was put in Lucius’s care while an inquiry was going on. The social worker stated it was only for a short while, but the look Lucius gave her made it clear that it would last forever.
Lucius stopped Carmela as she was walking to her car. “You need to make a choice right now: your son or your marriage.” You can’t have both anymore.
She watched Lucius and Blake drive away in his vehicle, with the boy’s head against the window and her ex-husband’s hand on their son’s shoulder. She felt like the foundations of her carefully built existence were crumbling to dust.
The house was dark when she got home. There was a pickup in Guillermo’s driveway. She discovered him in his study, staring at his phone with a tumbler of bourbon in his hand.
“Where’s Blake?” He asked without looking up.
“With Lucius. “At the hospital, where you put him.” He stared at her, and she saw something she had never seen before. Not guilt, not humiliation, but cold calculation.
“He tell you his side? “
“His version?” “Her voice got louder. “You hit our son in the face!” “
“Our son?” Guillermo laughed, and it was a harsh, unpleasant sound. “He’s not my son, Carmela.” He made that obvious today. He is Lucius’s son, and he never lets me forget it. For two years, I’ve attempted to get along with that kid, but all I get is attitude and contempt. So, yes, I put him in his place. That’s what dads do.
“You aren’t his father,” the words rushed out before she could stop them. Guillermo’s face flashed with something menacing.
“Yeah, I’m starting to see that.” He drank the rest of his bourbon. “Your ex is going to come after me for this, you realize that, right? Captain Lucius David is a war hero and a decorated officer. “He wants to kill me.”
“Maybe you deserve it.”
Carmela was scared for the first time in their marriage when Guillermo stood up. “Be very careful about who you choose to be on your side here.” You are crazy if you believe Lucius will welcome you back with open arms. You broke up with him, remember? You said he was married to his profession, that you couldn’t live with the risk, and that you deserved better. This is better, then. I gave you everything you wanted: this mansion and this life. You’d be a fool to toss that away over one mistake or a punk kid who needs discipline.
He went away, leaving her in the study with her ideal life in ruins, wondering how she could have been so blind.
Lucius had Blake move into his apartment, a little two-bedroom place that was as warm as a barracks but at least safe. At 10:37 p.m., his phone rang. His gut prompted him to answer even if the number was unknown.
“David.”
“Captain David, this is Sergeant Randy Miller from the West District station.” I, um… I have your son here.
Lucius’s blood turned to ice. Blake was sitting on the couch twenty feet away, wrapped in a blanket, and pretending to watch TV. “What are you talking about?” My son is right here.
“Sir, a sixteen-year-old named Blake David says you’re his father. He was brought in around an hour ago. His stepdad made a report. Assault and damage to property. The kid is in interview room B and wants to talk to you.
The world came to a halt. Lucius glanced at Blake on the couch before looking back at his phone. “Sergeant Miller, I’m only going to ask you once: tell me about the boy you have.”
“Uh, he’s about five-eleven, has brown hair, and a bruise on his face…”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” No one talks to my son when I’m not there. Clear? “
“Yes, sir.” Captain, I need to notify you that the stepfather is also here. Guillermo Edwards. He really wants us to file charges.
Lucius felt the serenity of battle come over him again, cool and clear. “I’ll take care of Edwards. Just make sure my son is comfortable and gets enough drink. “Twenty minutes.” He hung up and turned to Blake, who was now awake and sitting up. “What’s the matter? “
“Your stepfather just made up a police report saying you hit him.” “Looks like you’re at the West District station.” Lucius collected his jacket, badge, and service pistol. “When was the last time you saw Guillermo? “
“This morning.” At home. “I swear, Dad, I didn’t touch him.”
“I understand.” He wants to be the victim of what happened today, Lucius said. He examined his weapon without thinking, as he had done before every shift for the past twenty years. “Put on your clothes. You are coming with me. I want to see you and know where you are when I come into that station.
“Hey Dad, what are you going to do?” “
Lucius stared at his kid and saw the worry and doubt in his eyes. Blake needed to know that his father could handle this, that justice was real, and that decent guys still won sometimes. “I’m going to do what I’ve always done: protect what’s mine.”
It took exactly eighteen minutes to drive to West District. Lucius took the time to call three people: Arnaldo Caldwell, Byron, and his lawyer, a shark named Courtney Baldwin, who had helped him through the divorce and owed him a few favors. Lucius made sure to stop at the front desk when they got to the station. He made sure the duty officer noted Blake’s arrival and that there were witnesses and timestamps. Then he moved toward the interview rooms with Blake next to him and his hand on his son’s shoulder. This made the officers step aside.
In the hallway, Sergeant Randy Miller met them. He looked like a professional cop and was probably in his thirties. He turned pale as soon as he noticed Lucius’s uniform. “Captain David, I—”
“Sergeant, which room is my son supposed to be in?” “
“Sir, interview B.” But—
Lucius walked by him. “Open the door.”
Nothing. It’s just an empty room with a table, two chairs, and the ghost of a made-up accusation. “Interesting.” Lucius looked around, and Miller actually stepped back when Lucius said, “My son seems to have disappeared.” “You want to tell me how you have a victim in your custody who is also standing right next to me?” “
“Sir, I was merely following the rules. Edwards came in with an allegation that his stepson had attacked him, broken things, and made threats. “He had pictures and papers.”
“Pictures of what? Did he hurt himself? Sergeant Miller, you’ve been a cop long enough to know when someone is trying to trick you. Where is Edwards now? “
“Interrogation C. He is waiting to make his comment.
“Great. I need to talk to him for fifteen minutes.
Miller’s eyes got big. “Captain, I can’t—”
“You can’t what?” “Lucius moved closer and lowered his voice to a level that was commanding but not loud. “You made a report based on inaccurate information. You tried to process a youngster without telling their parents, and you are hiding a man who attacked a child—my child—earlier today. Now I can make this official and have Internal Affairs look at your career very closely. Or you could let me talk to the individual who tried to frame my son for fifteen minutes, and we could settle this quietly. “Your choice, Sergeant.”
Miller gazed at Blake and the bruise that was now impossible to miss in the station’s bright lights. His face changed. “Did he do that this morning?” “
“Records from the hospital are already in. X-rays, a doctor’s note, and a report from the CPS, all with timestamps. So you can understand the problem when Edwards says my son hit him today.
Miller ran a hand through his hair and said, “Jesus.” “Captain, I didn’t know. He came in looking professional, told the truth, and seemed believable.
“He’s a contractor.” “He is good at building facades.” Lucius softened his voice a little. “Randy, you didn’t do anything wrong. But you’re going to help me solve it. Bring Blake to your office. Get him some food and coffee. While I talk to my son’s stepfather, I need witnesses to see him calm, helpful, and not hurt more than what Edwards did earlier.
“Sir, if you—”
“I won’t hurt him.” Lucius smiled. It wasn’t a nice look. “I’m just going to ask him some questions about the business he runs.” His tax returns and permissions. “By the book.”
Miller thought for a moment, then nodded. “Room C for interviews. He’s yours now. But, Captain? I didn’t hear anything. I was working on paperwork at my office.
“Smart guy.”
Lucius headed to interrogation room C after making sure Blake was safe in Miller’s office and could be seen via the glass. He didn’t knock; he just opened the door and walked in, closing it behind him with an authoritative click.
Guillermo Edwards sat at the metal table, looking arrogant and confident in his fine pants and polo shirt that shouted “successful contractor.” But when he noticed Lucius, that smug smile changed. “Captain David. I was thinking we could discuss about your son’s behavior like men.
“Shut up,” Guillermo said, and his mouth jerked shut.
Lucius moved slowly around the table, making a lot of noise with his boots on the linoleum. He didn’t sit down or get too close to Edwards; he just stood there, letting the silence last, letting his outfit, his reputation, and his barely controlled wrath do the work.
Finally, Lucius stated in a normal voice, “You touched my son.” “Then you try to hide it by making a bogus report. That is assault on a child and making a false report to the police. “Those are felonies, Guillermo.”
“He hit me!” “
“Blake stayed with me all night. Witnesses, timestamps, and hospital records. “Your story doesn’t hold up to basic scrutiny.” Lucius sat against the wall with his arms folded. “So, here is what will happen: You need to leave this station, go home, and keep away from my son. I’m asking for emergency custody, and you won’t fight it. You’re going to tell Sergeant Miller that there was a mix-up, that you overreacted, and that you’re dismissing all the charges.
“Not a chance!” “
Lucius went on as if Edwards hadn’t said anything. “And if you don’t, I’m going to look very closely at your business.” Your permits, your construction codes, and your employee paperwork. I’m going to tell the IRS about some strange differences I’ve seen in your tax returns. Yes, I’ve already taken them out. Advantages of becoming a captain. I’m going to talk to your suppliers about the bulk material purchases that don’t quite match the invoices for your project. And I’m going to tell every building inspector in this city about you.
Guillermo’s face had turned white. “You can’t.”
“I can, and I will.” Guillermo, you made one big mistake. You assumed I was just a police officer. But I’m not just a police officer. I am a dad. “You hurt my son,” Lucius said, pushing from the wall and going to the door. “You have until tomorrow AM to make a choice. If you keep pushing this, I’ll tear down everything you’ve built. Or just go, and you might be able to keep your business and your independence. He opened the door and then stopped. “Hey, Guillermo? If you ever get close to Blake again, I won’t use my badge. I’m going to use my hands. And there won’t be enough of you left for a closed casket. Are we clear? “
Lucius left without waiting for an answer. He found Miller in his office with Blake, who was drinking a hot chocolate and looking young and weak in a way that made Lucius’s heart hurt.
“Sergeant Miller, Mr. Edwards is ready to make his statement.” I think he’ll drop all the accusations and say he’s sorry for wasting police time.
Miller stared back and forth between Lucius and the interrogation chambers before nodding slowly. “Uh, I’ll go do that.”
Blake looked up at his dad when they were alone. “What did you tell him?” “
“The truth. “That he messed with the wrong family.” Lucius hugged his son and felt Blake cling to him like he had when he was five and scared of storms. “It’s over, champ.” You’re safe now.
But Lucius knew it wasn’t over, even though Blake was leaning on him and saying it. Not really. Men like Guillermo Edwards didn’t give up lightly, and wounds this deep needed more than threats to heal. This was only the start.
Three days after the incident at the police station, Lucius was in his office looking over security tape from one of Guillermo Edwards’s building sites. Lucius got the video through a line of well kept deniability. His brother Byron had an acquaintance whose relative worked security. For completely opposite reasons, what he was seeing made his blood run cold.
“Captain,” Arnaldo Caldwell knocked and walked in right away. “We have a problem.”
“Another one?” “
“Carmela just called the front desk.” She says she needs to talk to you and won’t leave.
Lucius shut the laptop. Since the hospital, he had been avoiding his ex-wife, letting her stew in the consequences of her decisions and wonder what he was going to do. But maybe it was time for that talk.
He saw Carmela in the foyer and was shocked to see her. In just three days, she had lost weight, had dark circles under her eyes that makeup couldn’t quite disguise, and was wearing yoga pants and a hoodie instead of her normal well-planned clothes.
“Lucius,” her voice broke. “Please, I need to talk to you.” He pointed to a conference room and waited until they were alone.
“What’s up, Carmela?” “
“I want my son back.” She cried. “I want to say sorry and explain. I want—
“You want. What does Blake want? Did you ask him? “
“He won’t pick up the phone or respond to texts.” I went to your flat, but he wouldn’t even open the door.
“That’s what happens when you pick your husband over your child.”
“I didn’t choose,” she said, and then she stopped to catch her breath. “Okay, I did. I made the incorrect choice. I was dumb and blind, and I let him down. But Lucius, he’s my son as well. “I have rights.”
“Rights you almost lost when your husband put him in the hospital.” Lucius maintained his voice calm and professional. “CPS is still looking into it.” Emergency custody is only for a short time, but I’m asking for a permanent change. “I’m not sending Blake back because he doesn’t feel safe in that house.”
“What if I leave Guillermo? “The question hung in the air.” Lucius looked at his ex-wife to see whether she was trying to manipulate him or make a plan. He only found desperation.
“Have you? “
“Not yet, but I’m thinking about it.” We both own the house. He owns the firm, but I could—
“Are you thinking about it?” Lucius laughed, and it sounded bitter. “You’re thinking about leaving the man who hurt your son.” That’s where we are.
“It’s not that easy! We’re married and own everything jointly. “I can’t just leave behind two years of my life.”
“Blake is sixteen years of your life, and you’re still not sure.” He got up. “I’m going to make this easy for you, Carmela.” You want to be a part of Blake’s life? You want him to pick up the phone? Then you show that you’ve changed. You go away from Edwards. You go to therapy. You have to work every day to get back the trust you lost. But until then, until I see real change and not just talk, you should stay away from him. “Because he’s been through too much.”
“Don’t keep me away from my son!” “
“Watch me.” He walked out and left her there. He didn’t feel good about her anguish; he just felt tired of how complicated everything had gotten.
He opened the laptop again when he got back to his office. The security camera footage showed something interesting: Guillermo Edwards speaking with three individuals in hard helmets at a building site on the East Side. The permits said that no construction was scheduled to be happening there for another two weeks. The same place where Lucius had dug up information that building inspections had passed for no apparent reason, even though there were clear code violations.
His phone rang. Courtney Baldwin is his lawyer. “Lucius, we have a problem.” Edwards is suing back for defamation and harassment. He says you intimidated him at the police station, that you’re using your job to scare him, and that he’s filing an ethics complaint with the department.
“He’s what?” “
“It’s getting worse. He says that Blake has been hard to deal with at home for months, that you’ve been teaching the youngster to lie, and that this is all a custody play on your side. He has proof in the form of texts, images, and testimony from neighbors.
Lucius felt ice settle in his stomach. “He’s been planning this since before he hit Blake.”
“Most likely. Lucius, this man is brilliant. He constructed a defense ahead of time because he knew you would come after him. “We have to be very, very careful here.”
Lucius sat in the dark of his office after she hung up and realized he had not given Guillermo Edwards enough credit. The man wasn’t just an abuser trying to hide his traces; he was a predator who had been planning this whole thing, maybe from the start. The question was, why?
That night, after Blake went to sleep, Lucius asked an old army buddy who now worked as a private investigator for a favor. He had a preliminary background on Guillermo Edwards within an hour. It all made sense: three previous marriages, two restraining orders (both sealed), a bankruptcy seven years ago right before he started his construction business, and a sealed juvenile record from when Edwards was seventeen.
Lucius recognized that there were legitimate reasons why secret records stayed sealed. But he also knew folks who could open them up without any inquiries. If it got out, it could cost him money, maybe possibly his badge. But his son was more important to him than his job. He called.
At 2:47 a.m., the file came over an encrypted email. Lucius was still awake, and had been for hours. He was going through public records and building permits, looking for a thread that would pull apart Guillermo Edwards’s perfectly planned life. He picked up the phone to call Carmela after looking at the sealed juvenile file, but then he stopped. He needed to think very carefully about how to use what he was reading because it wasn’t simply proof; it was a weapon.
Guillermo Edwards, who was then Guillermo Garcia, was arrested for attacking his stepfather when he was 17. The charges were dropped in the end, and the record was sealed. But the police reports told a story: a teenage kid who had trouble controlling his anger, had a history of bad behavior, and was accused of stalking his stepfather’s daughter from a previous marriage. At the time, the daughter was fifteen.
Lucius was unwell. He looked at the door to Blake’s room, which was closed, and wondered how he had missed this. Lucius had been too angry over the divorce to check out the man who would be living with his kid, so Carmela had married a predator.
His phone rang. Byron. “Are you awake?” “
“Yes. What’s going on? “
“You have to go to the garage.” Now. “Blake is here.”
“What? He should be sleeping in his room.
“Well, he isn’t. He rode his bike here an hour ago. He won’t tell me why, but he’s really upset. You have to come.
Lucius looked in Blake’s room and saw that it was empty. The bed was full of pillows, which is a common trick for teenagers. He was out the door in three minutes, with his heart racing. What if Edwards had gotten to him?
He found Blake in Byron’s office, wrapped in a blanket that smelled like old coffee and motor oil. His brother waited at the entrance with his arms crossed and a troubled look on his face.
Lucius knelt down in front of his kid and said, “Blake.” “What happened?” “
“I went back to the house to get some things I forgot.” Blake wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Guillermo was there, but Mom wasn’t. He… Dad, he was waiting for me.
Lucius felt like he was losing control. “Did he touch you?” “
“No. He just spoke. Talked about you. About how the ethics complaint will cost you your job. How you’re misusing your power. How the court will see through your tricks and grant Mom complete custody. He told me I would never see you again and that I should get used to having him as my father. He said you were just a violent thug in a uniform.
“He was trying to get you to attack him by baiting you.”
“I know.” That’s why I went away. “But Dad…” Blake finally looked up, and the fear in his eyes was greater than any injury. “He showed me pictures of me. In my chamber, sleeping. Through the window. “He has been watching me.”
The world turned. Lucius rose up, moved to the garage’s corner, and had to literally stop himself from punching a hole in the wall.
Byron touched him on the shoulder. “Stay smart, Lou.” Don’t give him what he wants.
“He broke a restraining order,” Lucius said in a calm voice. “He made threats against a child. “He has been following my son around.”
“And if you go over there and beat him up, you lose everything: your badge, custody, and maybe even your freedom.” Is that what Blake wants? “
Lucius gazed at his son, who was curled up under that blanket, trying to be brave but failing. Byron was correct. This needed a plan, not violence.
“Did he give you those pictures, Blake?” “
“No.” He just showed them on his phone. There were about twenty of them from the last week.
“Okay. Lucius took out his phone and said, “That means they’re still on his phone, with a time stamp and location tag.” “I’m calling this in.” Channels that are official. “He just gave us everything we need.”
Two hours later, Officer Sandy Ali and another patrolman showed up at Guillermo Edwards’s house with a warrant for his phone. Lucius David had filed stalking charges against him on behalf of his underage son. Carmela wasn’t there. Edwards answered the door in his jammies, looking confused and innocent, but his phone indicated a different story. Twenty-three pictures of Blake taken over the course of five days. Locations, timestamps, and perspectives that revealed Edwards had been following the youngster, watching him, and making a file. Lucius’s investigator also found something else in the metadata: pictures of other teenage guys that went back years.
At morning, Sandy Ali nicknamed him “Captain David.” “You need to look at this. Edwards isn’t just following Blake around. We found three other people he hurt on his phone. One is from his last marriage. One is a kid from the neighborhood. We don’t know the third one yet. But this is a pattern.
Lucius felt both vindication and terror in his chest. “Is that enough to get arrested?” “
“More than enough.” Harassment, stalking, and putting children in danger. While we build the case, we can keep him for seventy-two hours. You want to be here when we get him? “
“No,” Lucius said. Blake was sleeping on Byron’s office couch, tired from fright and adrenaline. “I want to be with my son.” But what about Ali? Tell him why he’s going down. Make sure he knows he shouldn’t have bothered my family.
At 7:15 in the morning, Guillermo Edwards was drinking coffee and probably thinking about what to do next against Lucius. At 7:47, a lawyer Guillermo had on retainer called Carmela. She was at Lucius’s flat by 8:00, banging on the door.
“Lucius, let me in!” What did you do? “
He opened the door and went into the hallway so Blake couldn’t hear. “I did what I was supposed to do. Your hubby is a predator. He has been following Blake around and taking pictures of him, and we have proof that he has done this before. He’s in jail, and if I’m right, he might be there for five to ten years at the least.
Carmela’s face fell apart. “This isn’t happening.” This can’t be.
“It is. Carmela, you need to make a decision right now. You may support Edwards, hire lawyers, and fight this. You may also stand alongside your son and assist us make our case. But you can’t do both.
She slipped down the wall, sat in the corridor of his apartment building, and cried. “I had no idea.” I swear to God, Lucius, I didn’t know.
“I trust you.” But Blake doesn’t. And that’s what matters. He softened a little. “You want to fix this?” You begin by telling the prosecutors everything. Every time you chose Edwards over Blake, you ignored a red flag. You provide them the tools they need to put him away for good. That’s how you get your son back.
She nodded, and Lucius didn’t feel good about it. Instead, he felt a bleak determination to see it through. Because this wasn’t the end. Not yet. Men like Edwards had backup plans, money, and lawyers who knew how to make things less clear and raise reasonable doubt. The arrest was just the start. The real fight was about to begin.
In forty-eight hours, Guillermo Edwards was able to pay his bond. Tanner Mada, Edwards’s lawyer, was a skilled operator who specialized in defending the indefensible. He said that the images were benign, that Edwards was a concerned stepfather, and that the metadata was circumstantial. The judge, who was exhausted and three weeks away from retirement, set bail at $50,000 and let him out with an ankle monitor and a restraining order.
Lucius got a call from the prosecutor, a bulldog named Julio Walsh who put more criminals behind bars than anybody else in the city. “I’m sorry, Lucius. I wanted Mada to stay in jail, but he is decent. He made Edwards seem like a worried dad.
“He’ll run.”
“His passport is flagged.” He has a screen. We’re putting together the case. “The other victims are ready to testify.”
“That will take months, maybe even years.” In the meantime, he’s out there and knows I’m coming for him.
“Lucius,” Julio’s voice had a warning tone. “Don’t do something dumb. We have him. “Let the system do its thing.”
But Lucius had seen the system work for twenty-three years, so he knew all of its shortcomings quite well. He knew how evidence was hidden, how victims were scared, and how men with money and skilled lawyers got away with it while good people suffered. He wasn’t going to let that happen. Not to Blake.
“Captain,” Arnaldo Caldwell said as he walked into Lucius’s office. “We have a problem.” Someone sent an anonymous tip about Edwards’s construction sites. He says he’s been hiring people without papers, breaking safety rules, and bribing off inspectors. It may be nothing, or…
Lucius grabbed his jacket and said, “Or it could be exactly what we need.” “Get me a warrant to look at his business records.” All of it. Payroll, permits, and reports from inspections. “I want to put so many charges on him that he never sees the light of day again.”
“Lou, you need to be careful, man. His lawyer is already saying he was harassed. “IA is keeping an eye on you.”
“Then they can watch me work.” Lucius walked to the door and then stopped. “Arnaldo, you’ve been my partner for 15 years. You don’t have to do what I say. “I don’t want you to get hurt if it goes wrong.”
Caldwell stepped up and got his own jacket. “Your kid used to bring his science projects to the precinct. When he was eight, he showed me how to make a volcano. Do you really think I’m going to let a predator go free? “Wherever this goes, I’m with you.”
By lunchtime, the warrant had come in. By 2:00 p.m., Lucius had a team of policemen at Edwards’s major construction site, which was the luxury condo complex on the East Side that had been sped through all the necessary permits, inspections, and bureaucratic obstacles. What they found was worse than Lucius had hoped for: foundations that weren’t strong enough, electrical work that broke a dozen safety rules, materials that didn’t match the building plans, and in the site office, a set of books that showed Edwards had been cooking the books for years—overcharging clients, underpaying workers, skimming materials, and keeping the difference.
One of the officers at the bottom level cried out, “Captain David.” “You have to see this.”
Lucius climbed down into the foundation section, where his flashlight sliced through the dark. The officer pointed to a part of the wall where concrete had been poured but hadn’t hardened yet. “Check out where the rebar is. Everything is incorrect. A mild earthquake may bring down this whole building. “And the inspection reports say that this passed the structural review three weeks ago.”
Lucius took pictures of everything, called in a city building inspector who didn’t work for Edwards, and by 4:00 p.m. had enough proof to stop all of Edwards’s projects that were already going on. Bribery of public authorities, financial fraud, and reckless endangerment—the allegations would grow like bugs in a petri dish.
But it still wasn’t enough. Edwards had backup plans, offshore funds, and assets in his mother’s name. He could leave the business, file for bankruptcy, and move to a warm place where he could live comfortably while Blake had nightmares. Lucius needed something bigger and more permanent.
That night, he met Byron and Courtney Baldwin in Byron’s garage. Lucius had set up a carefully supervised visit for Blake at a friend’s house so that the boy might have a normal life.
“Okay,” Courtney said as she put files on Byron’s desk. “Here’s where we are in terms of the law.” The charges of stalking are strong. The fraud in the construction industry is growing. Mada is good, though, and Edwards has money. He could stretch this out for years, and there’s always a chance he beats certain charges, pleads guilty to others, and only serves a little time.
Lucius remarked, “That’s not okay.”
“Then we need to think outside the law,” Byron said as he sat back in his chair. “I’m not saying we should break the law. We need to be innovative, I’m saying.
“What are you thinking?” “
Byron smiled, and Lucius remembered that his younger brother didn’t always make money servicing automobiles. Before he had his act together, Byron hung out with a rougher crowd and had friends who were on the edge of the law. “Edwards has a lot of enemies.” He cheated clients, workers, and contractors out of money. What if some of those adversaries choose to speak up? What if the news media were interested in the story? A predator contractor who followed his stepson about while installing death traps that may fall on families.
“Media pressure,” Courtney answered softly. “Public outcry.” Make it impossible for any DA to offer a plea deal in politics.
“And more than that,” Byron said as he opened something on his laptop. “Edwards owns three homes free and clear. One is the house where he and Carmela dwell. The other two are rental homes that bring in money for him. What if those properties suddenly developed very pricey problems? “Plumbing problems, electrical fires, and problems with the foundation that need to be fixed right away and at a high cost.”
“That’s destroying property,” Lucius replied.
“Is it? Or is it just the inevitable result of bad building finally catching up with him? You know his work; such properties are probably already disasters waiting to happen. What if someone just sped up the timeline? “
Lucius glanced at his brother and the lawyer, who was being very careful not to say what he thought, and felt the weight of the choice he had to make. He could follow the rules, have faith in the system, and hope that justice would win out. Or he could turn Edwards’s own weapons against him to fight fire with fire.
“How quickly can you do it?” “
“Give me a week.” And Lou? We can’t stop once we start this. Edwards will know who we are. He will fight back. “This could get bad.”
“It’s already ugly.” “Let’s get it done.”
On a Tuesday morning, the first domino dropped when the city’s biggest newspaper printed a front-page story with the headline “CONTRACTOR FACES STALKING, FRAUD CHARGES. ARE YOUR HOMES SAFE?” The report talked about Guillermo Edwards’s arrest and showed pictures of Blake. Most importantly, it included interviews with three former employees who talked about how the company regularly broke safety rules, committed financial fraud, and used intimidation. By lunchtime, Edwards’s phone was ringing off the hook with clients asking for their money back, investors pulling their money, and local councilors calling for inquiries. His empire, which he had built with care, was trembling.
That night, the second domino fell when a pipe broke in his main rental property, a six-unit building that contained two families with small kids. The flood damage was so bad that people had to leave right away and it cost tens of thousands of dollars to fix. The building inspector who came found so many code violations that he put a red tag on the whole thing. Lucius observed from across the street as tenants carted their things out in trash bags, looking tired and irritated. He felt a little bad about moving them, but Byron had already set up for a tenants’ rights lawyer to get in touch with them and help them sue Edwards for making their home unlivable. They would be better off in the end.
Carmela was the third domino. She filed for divorce three days after the article came out and moved in with her sister. That night, she contacted Lucius. Her voice was weak and cracked. “I told the prosecutor everything. I looked through every document I could locate and remembered every conversation I had. Julio Walsh argues that adding financial fraud to the stalking allegations is enough.
“That must have been tough.”
“Not as hard as facing Blake and knowing I chose that monster over my own son.” She stopped. “Can I see him?” For coffee only? “I know I don’t deserve it, but…”
“I’ll ask him. No promises.
Blake didn’t want to, but he agreed. Lucius took him to a coffee shop where Carmela was waiting. She looked weak and older than her years. He stayed close enough to see them but not hear them, letting them converse. Over the course of an hour, he saw his son’s body language change from defensive to cautiously open. Blake strolled back to the car with angry eyes but relaxed shoulders when they were done.
“She said she was sorry. Apologized a lot. She told me she was wrong, that she made a horrible choice, and that she understands if I never forgive her.
“Do you want to let her go?” “
“I don’t know.” Maybe one day. But Dad? She told the prosecutor everything. “She’s helping to bring Guillermo down.”
“I know.”
“Is that enough to make up for it?” “
Lucius hugged his son. “That’s not up to me to determine. But it’s a good start.
The fourth domino fell when one of Guillermo Edwards’s past victims, a twenty-three-year-old lad who was married and had a child of his own, saw the newspaper piece and came forward. His testimony was heartbreaking: he had been stalked for three years when he was fifteen, starting with pictures and then on to following him, showing up at his school, and sending him obscene messages. The charges had been dropped as part of a plea deal, but now he was willing to testify in front of everyone. Two more victims came after that. The issue was no longer simply about Blake; it was about a decade-long pattern of predatory behavior.
Tanner Mada tried to stop the testimony by saying it was biased, damaging to his character, or not relevant. But Julio Walsh didn’t give up, and the judge, who was now under a lot of public and media pressure, denied every motion. The date of the trial was fixed for six weeks from now. Edwards would have to go to court for stalking, fraud, putting a child in danger, and a dozen other crimes. If he was found guilty on all counts, he would have to spend fifteen to twenty years in prison.
But Lucius understood that those who had been found guilty still had lawyers, appeals, and means to fight back. He needed Edwards not just in jail, but also completely destroyed so that he would never endanger Blake again. That’s when Byron called with the last piece.
“You need to hear this, Lou. I identified a guy who worked on Edwards’s construction crew five years ago. He was a buddy of a friend. He is ready to say that Edwards cut corners on a home development in 2020 on purpose. Edwards recognized that the foundation was never properly strengthened. The people that bought that house? Last year, part of the deck fell down and hurt their ten-year-old daughter.
“Does the family know that Edwards was to blame?” “
“Not yet.” But they could, provided someone showed them the way.
Lucius could feel the trap closing. “Please provide me the family’s phone number. And what about Byron? Thanks.
“He hurt our child.” Our family. Byron’s voice was strong when he said, “I’d burn the world down for you too.” “Now finish this.”
On a frigid Monday in November, Guillermo Edwards’s trial started. The courtroom was full of reporters, victims, former employees, and every cop in the city who had a problem with predators who exploited their power to hurt people. Blake was on one side of Lucius and Carmela was on the other. They were all together, even if they had a lot of history together.
Julio Walsh’s introductory speech was precise. She talked about the pattern of stalking, showed pictures of Blake, and read testimony from other victims. She talked about the bribery, the building code violations, and the construction fraud. And then she played her last card: the family of the hurt girl was suing Edwards in civil court and was ready to talk about the broken deck, the careless building, and the irreversible damage their daughter had done.
Tanner Mada tried to fight back by making Edwards look like a bewildered businessman, a worried stepfather, and a victim of an angry ex-husband with a badge. But his voice didn’t seem sure, and the jury—eight women, four men, mostly middle-aged, mostly parents—looked at Edwards with open scorn.
It took the prosecution three days to make their case. Victim after victim talked about how Edwards stalked them, manipulated them, and acted like a predator. Construction workers talked about the cheating, the cutting corners, and the threats. Building inspectors said they had taken bribes. The father of the hurt girl broke down on the stand as he talked about his daughter’s months of physical treatment, surgeries, and trauma.
Edwards stayed still through it all, his nice suit and placid attitude hiding whatever darkness was inside him. But Lucius could see the cracks: how his hand shook when the pictures of Blake were shown, how tight his eyes were when former employees talked about how harsh he was, and how angry he was when Carmela took the stand and methodically tore him apart.
On the fourth day, Tanner Mada brought Edwards to the stand to defend himself. Lucius understood it was a risk. Edwards was charming and well-spoken, and Mada hoped he might win over the jurors. But Julio Walsh was still there.
She let Edwards tell his story: the worried stepfather, the businessman who was misunderstood, and the ex-husband who was out to get him. She let him make himself look like a caring, sensible person. And then she lunged for the throat.
“Mr. You say that you took these pictures of Blake David because you were worried about his safety, Edwards. Is that right? “
“Yes.” He was sneaking out at night and hanging around in risky places.
Julio pulled up a map on the courtroom screen and said, “These are dangerous areas.” “Could you tell who they are? Edwards pointed to several places, like the library, the coffee shop outside his father’s apartment, and his uncle’s garage. “Mr. Edwards, these don’t appear very dangerous to me. Do you think a library is a dangerous place? “
“It’s not about where he was; it’s about who he was with.”
“Who was he seeing?” “
“I don’t know.” That’s why I was keeping an eye on him.
“So you were watching a minor child, not your own son, without his knowledge or permission because you were worried about meeting up with people you didn’t know in public places like libraries and coffee shops?” “The jury changed.” Edwards’s lawyer said no, but it was too late.
Julio went on. “Mr. Edwards, let’s talk about the marriages you’ve had before. How many times have you gotten married? “
“Three times, with Carmela.”
“And did you have stepchildren in your last two marriages?” “
“Yes.”
“Both of the boys are teenagers?” “
“Yes.”
“And both of those relationships ended with restraining orders against you, right? “
“Those were wrong ideas.”
“Misunderstandings.” Like the pictures of Blake were wrong? Like the mistakes that led to the building code violations? Like the deck that fell down and hurt a ten-year-old girl was a mistake? “Julio’s voice got louder. “Mr. Edwards, how many times do we have to get things wrong before we see a pattern of harmful, predatory behavior? “
Tanner Mada was standing up and yelling, but the jury had already made up their minds. Lucius could see it in their faces: the rage, the disgust, and the will to keep their kids safe from men like Guillermo Edwards.
The next day, the defense rested, and their case was in ruins. Julio Walsh’s closing argument was logical and devastating, while Tanner Mada’s was desperate and unconvincing. The jurors spent four hours thinking about it. When they came back, they all agreed on all twenty-three counts: Guilty.
Guillermo Edwards’s face turned pale. He turned to gaze at Lucius, and in that moment, Lucius saw everything: the anger, the hatred, and the vow of revenge that wasn’t voiced. But it was empty because Edwards was going to jail for at least fifteen to twenty years. When Blake got out, he would be in his thirties, settled, and safe, and Lucius would still be waiting.
The sentence would be given two weeks later. Lucius left the courthouse with Blake and Carmela, feeling like the months of stress had finally lifted. Outside, the journalists were everywhere, with cameras flashing and microphones sticking out.
“Captain David, what do you think of the verdict? “
“I feel like justice was served, and I hope this sends a message to anyone who thinks they can hurt kids and get away with it.” He put his arm around Blake. “My son is safe.” That’s the only thing that matters.
But Lucius’s phone rang when they were walking to his pickup. Byron. “Lou, we have a problem.” Edwards got out on bond while he waited for his sentencing. “He is out.”
“What’s he?” “
“Mada pulled some strings.” The appeals court threw out the remand order. Twenty minutes ago, Edwards left. And Lou? His ankle monitor is no longer working. He chopped it and fled away.
Lucius stared at Blake, Carmela, and the life they had been attempting to rebuild. He felt a cold certainty settle in his chest. Edwards was not going to go without a fight. He was going to get them, one last act of revenge that was full of rage.
“Take Blake to a safe place. “Now.” Lucius was already on his way to his pickup. “Byron, I need you to escort him and Carmela to the cabin in the north. Don’t tell me where, though. “Just go.”
“What are you going to do?” “
“What I should have done from the start.” “I’m going to stop this.”
Lucius David had pursued men before, in Fallujah, Kandahar, and the dark streets of the city’s darkest areas. He knew how predators thought, how they moved, and where they went when they were trapped. And he knew that Guillermo Edwards would be the first to come for him. Lucius himself, not Blake or Carmela. Edwards knew that to really upset Lucius, you had to hurt something he loved while he watched.
That’s why Lucius went home by himself, sent Blake and Carmela away with Byron, and waited.
He got to his flat around 10:00 p.m., and it was dark. He didn’t switch on the lights; he just walked through the room he knew well, inspecting the windows, setting up sightlines, and getting ready for war. According to department rules, his service weapon was locked in the safe. The shotgun he bought to protect his home wasn’t. He waited in the dark.
At 2:17 a.m., Edwards came. Lucius heard the lock picks working on his door and the deliberate footsteps in the hall. He saw Edwards slide inside, a dark figure among other dark figures, holding something that sparkled in the light. Of course, a knife. Close up and personal. The most pain.
Edwards’s voice was calm and even conversational when he said, “I know you’re here, Captain.” “I know Blake isn’t. You told him to leave. Intelligent. But that just means we can talk without being interrupted.
Lucius didn’t say anything; he just watched from the doorway of the bedroom.
Edwards walked into the living room and said, “You ruined my life.” “My business, my marriage, my freedom.” Because your son couldn’t take a little discipline. “All because you couldn’t handle the fact that Carmela chose me over you.”
“You stalked and hurt a child,” Lucius’s voice sounded from the shadows. “Guillermo, this was always going to end one way.”
Edwards turned to look at the noise, but Lucius was already on the move. Twenty-three years of training, three tours of duty in combat, and a thousand times dealing with violent criminals. He got closer to Edwards before he could react, pushed the knife arm to the side, and slammed his shoulder into Edwards’s sternum. They fell hard, and the knife slid across the floor.
Edwards gasped, “I’m going to find Blake, your brother, and everyone you love,” and swung furiously.
“No,” Lucius said, and then he smashed a knee into Edwards’s solar plexus. “You’re not.”
He could kill him right now. Say you acted in self-defense. Put the knife in the ground. Make the call. It would be hard to argue with Captain Lucius David defending himself against a convicted felon who broke into his house. It would be right, clean, and final. But that wasn’t justice; that was revenge. And Blake didn’t need a dad who killed people. He needed a parent who was better than that.
Lucius took out his phone and dialed it in. “This is Captain David.” Someone has broken into my house and is armed with a knife. I have him under control. “Send units to where I am.”
Edwards laughed, even though there was blood on his teeth. “Do you think this is over?” I’ll hire a lawyer. I’ll say that you brought me here and then attacked me. In self-defense. “Entrapment.”
“Maybe.” “Or maybe the security camera I put in last week caught everything,” Lucius said, pointing to the little device over the door. “With you breaking in, with the knife, and with your threats against my son.”
Edwards’s face turned blank. “You made plans for this?” “
“No.” I knew you were dumb enough to come after me. “And I was ready.”
Six minutes later, the cops showed here. Sandy Ali was the first to arrive, gun drawn, and she took in the scene: Lucius standing, Edwards on the ground, and the knife as proof. Everything is clean, legal, and done well.
“Captain, are you okay? “
“I’m okay.” Mr. Edwards is in jail for breaking and entering, trying to hurt someone, and disobeying the rules of his bail. “I have video proof,” Lucius said as he handed over his phone. “Book him, and tell his lawyer that this time there won’t be any bail.” He is in jail until he is sentenced, and presumably for a long time after that.
They put Edwards in handcuffs, told him his rights, and took him out of the apartment. Thirty minutes later, Tanner Mada showed up, looked at the evidence, and told his client to take whatever plea deal the DA offered. Going to trial with video proof of a midnight knife attack on a police captain would have been career suicide, even for a lawyer as talented as Mada.
Two days later, Guillermo Edwards pleaded guilty to all of the accusations in exchange for a single sentence of twenty-five years, with no chance of parole before he was eighteen. If he made it out of prison, he would be sixty-eight years old, broken, and useless.
That weekend, Lucius took Blake back home. They were simply a father and son sitting on the couch in their apartment, eating pizza and watching a game. It was nice and calm there.
“Is it really over?” “Blake asked.
“Yes.” “It’s over.”
“How about if he gets out early? What if—
“Then I’ll be there.” Lucius grabbed his son close and said, “I’ll always be there.” “That’s my word to you, champ.” No matter what happens or where you go, I’m with you. “Always.”
Blake’s head moved against Lucius’s shoulder, and Lucius felt something change: the last bit of stress left his body, and the trauma began to heal.
Three months later, Carmela moved into an apartment that was two streets away. They were gently mending their relationship with therapy, honest talks, and the understanding that it would take years to fix lost trust. But they were making an effort. That was enough.
Blake’s bruises were fully gone six months later. He made the varsity football team, started dating a lady from his chemistry class, and began to think about going to college. The bad dreams happened less often. There was no more terror in his eyes.
Lucius stepped in front of the department a year later at an awards event to get a citation for his efforts on the Edwards case. The mayor talked about keeping children safe and doing the right thing. Lucius was lauded by the new chief of police for his honesty and hard work. Blake sat next to Byron and Carmela in the audience. They were all together, despite everything, because real family could get through worse than divorce, abuse, and almost tragedy.
Blake’s father was outside the precinct after the ceremony. “Dad, I’m proud of you.”
Lucius’s throat felt tight. “I’m proud of you too, champ. Every day.”
“I knew things went worse. I know you had to do things that were hard. But you kept me safe. “You did the right thing.”
“That’s what dads do.” Blake hugged him, and Lucius held his son and stared up at the clear sky. For the first time in a year, he felt like everything was going to be okay. Blake was safe because Guillermo Edwards was in jail. The family was healing, and justice—real, hard-fought, imperfect justice—had won. Not because Lucius was the strongest or the most brutal, but because he was smart enough to use the law, patient enough to develop a case, and willing to give up his need for immediate revenge in favor of a long-term victory. He didn’t win by becoming a monster; he won by staying a man: flawed, determined, and not letting evil win. That was all they needed in the end.
